


Words Are Very Unnecessary

by zaphodsgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-09 21:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10422267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaphodsgirl/pseuds/zaphodsgirl
Summary: Five times Dean told Cas he hated him...and one time he didn’t.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Nat for taking the time to beta this and make sure that it still made sense after I'd slashed it to bits to keep it under 5K. Bless your face!

Dean has found a hiding place under the table, where he's been sitting with his arms around his knees, resting his head on them, and crying as silently as he can. He misses his Mom, and he doesn't understand why she's not here, or why his dad says she's not coming back. He's startled by a hand on his knee, and his head pops up to see a boy with big eyes, wearing a dark suit with a backwards tie.

"Who are you? What are you doing under here?" he asks, as he starts wiping his face on his sleeve and pushing the hand away. The boy doesn't say anything, just kneels there facing him, head tilted slightly. It's dim because of the floor length tablecloth, which made it such a wonderful hiding place. The boy readjusts himself so that he's sitting next to Dean and mirroring his posture.

"I didn't know anyone else was under here already. I don't like people. What's your name?"

"I asked you first," says Dean, somewhat petulantly.

The boy nods soberly, frowning slightly. "I'm Castiel. My mother and father brought me here with them, but they've been talking to Pastor Jim for a long time and I wanted to get away."

"I know him. He's my mommy and daddy's friend. He's nice."

"He's nice when he talks to me, but he just kept talking to them and it was boring." Castiel cups his elbows and rests his head on his knees, facing Dean. "Why are you crying?"

"Daddy says my mommy left and isn't coming back. I don't know why! Why would she leave me? And Sammy? He's so little, and now I gots to take care of him and she never told me what to do! I don't believe she's not coming back, why would daddy say that?"

Castiel nods very sagely. "My mommy and daddy told me that she passed away."

"What does that mean?"

"It means she's dead. She doesn't breathe anymore, and you don't see her again until _you_ die and go to Heaven."

Dean buries his head in his knees again, but he feels the strange boy stroking his hair.

"It's OK. You can borrow my mommy if you want. She's nice, and she smells really good, and her hair is very soft."

Dean shoves him away with his hands and then turns to kick at him with his feet. "GO AWAY. I don't want your stupid mommy! I want mine! I hate you! Get away from me!”

He scrambles out from under the table and blindly stumbles to his feet when someone grabs him.

"Shhhhh, Dean, it's OK." John pulls him up to his chest, wrapping him in his arms until he stops struggling. He turns his face into his dad's neck and sobs. "It's going to be OK, bud."

*******

Cas hates his World Literature class even more than he hates waking up in the morning. He was annoyed enough to be told at the beginning of the his senior year that he was short an elective towards graduation, even more so that his only other choices were Accounting and the dreaded Home Economics, so he begrudgingly takes World Lit because he likes words more than numbers, and he doesn't have to wear an apron.

What he wasn't expecting was to share the classroom with Dean Winchester: sophomore, JV football captain, and bane of his existence.

They have seventh period together every single day, and he's realized two things: the first is that he doesn't _like_ Dean: he's cocky and brash and flirts with all the girls in class, for one. He's also keen to make snide remarks and crack inappropriate jokes (always when Cas is speaking, it seems) that make Ms. Barnes laugh before she tells him to knock it off and gets back to the subject at hand. He's the personification of everything Cas hates about his peers, and just the sound of Dean's voice grates on his nerves.

The second is that he's pretty sure Dean has made Cas his personal target for every sarcastic comment and dig imaginable.

They've been reading Sophocles, and as always Ms. Barnes makes them turn their desks to face each other in the "discussion circle" while they go over the themes of “Oedipus Rex.” Cas is trying to make a point about fate versus free will, and he can see Dean out of the corner of his right eye getting into his pre-crack stance. It's always the same: he picks up his head, puts both feet on the floor, crosses his arms over the desk and leans forward on its front feet. Every. Single. Time. Like a terrible tell in a poker game.

"There's probably no amount of fate that could get Cas here laid, even with his own mother!"

His classmates laugh while he feels the burn rise up his cheeks to the roots of his hair, and the retort flies off his tongue before he can even process what he's about to say.

"At least I _have_ a mother to direct my Oedipal complex to, instead of flirting with every female in the school - including teachers - in an effort to replace her."

Dean slams his desk hard back onto all four feet and stares at Cas, mouth open.

"That is enough out of both of you! You will both see me after class." says Ms. Barnes, clearly deciding their behavior is out of bounds.

The rest of the class passes in awkward discussion, and the 20 minutes until the bell rings seems interminably longer. Ms. Barnes gets up and shuts the door behind the last student before beckoning them both to come and stand before her desk as she stands on the other side of it, bracing herself on the palms of her hands and glaring.

"Castiel. While your retort was insightful and quick-witted, it was altogether completely inappropriate for my classroom." He nods and swallows. "I'm going to let it slide because I've never had issue with you before." Dean looks like he's going to argue until she turns the full force of her ire in his direction. "And YOU. What came out of your mouth earlier was entirely out. Of. Line. As far as I'm concerned, Castiel's attack on you was provoked and deserved." Dean shuts his mouth and looks affronted. "From here on out you've earned yourself an office visit for every incident." She pushes off the desk and puts her hands on her hips instead. "We're done here. Get out of my classroom." She hands them each a pass for the next class and points to the door. They shuffle silently into the hall, Cas pulling the door shut behind him.

Dean is several steps ahead of him already, but Cas only hesitates a moment before he moves to catch up. His guilt twists him up inside, despite everything; he reaches out to catch the sleeve of his leather jacket.

"Dean..." but the jacket is yanked from his grasp as Dean turns and shoves Cas away, hard.

"Don't you ever speak to me," Dean seethes, red in the face, hands balled into fists at his sides, glaring at Cas. "Don't you _ever_ touch me. I hate you!" He pivots and takes off running down the darkened hallway.

*******

There's a dorm meeting the first evening of Dean’s freshman year so that everyone can meet and break the ice with the people they'll be sharing a building with. Dean feels as though someone has dumped the Gatorade over him after a victory when he sees that his dorm's Resident Advisor is none other than Castiel Novak. Castiel "your mommy's dead and never coming back" Novak. Castiel "you're a man whore who's overcompensating" Novak. He decides at that moment that he has ownership of the worst luck in the universe.

It's not surprising that Cas would be here at State, since a lot of kids from their school are; that he not only lives in Dean's building but is the goddamn RA is an unexpected nightmare. They go around the room to do introductions, and the smile on Cas's face falters when it gets to Dean, who answers with a glare that could make paint blister off steel. He storms back to his room and makes the decision to completely ignore Cas for the rest of the year, which would be easy if he didn't simultaneously decide to also antagonize him at every turn and making his job as hard as possible. Each time there's a complaint Cas has to come knocking on his door, and Dean has the satisfaction of slamming it into his face. Every. Single. Time.

A month into the semester, Dean is blaring Led Zeppelin in his dorm room as loudly as he can, just waiting for Cas to show up. He smiles to himself in satisfaction when the inevitable knock comes, only it's not Cas on the other side. It's six of his floormates, and they are _furious_. The leader of the group seems to be the normally chipper little redhead who has a penchant for Star Wars shirts and is about a foot shorter than Dean, which does nothing to make her seem any less terrifying when she gets in his face and pokes him in the chest.

"Winchester. Whatever beef you seem to have with the RA is none of our concern. What _is_ concerning is your utter lack of respect for the rest of us in your pursuit of petty revenge. We live here, too, and none of us wants to listen to your classic rock at all hours of the day when we're trying to study. Knock. Your. Shit. Off." She punctuates the last four words with jabs at his sternum, and they actually _hurt_. The rest of her group murmur in agreement, and look ready to drag him out of his room and toss him from the third floor fire escape. He holds up his hands in defeat and backs away to turn down the radio. The crowd disperses, all except their leader, who stands arms akimbo in the doorway.

"What's your problem, anyway? Are you trying to completely alienate yourself from everyone in your quest to make one guy miserable? I don't know what your history with him is, but I don't care. He's a nice guy, and we all like him. Moreover, none of us like _you_ very much right now, so maybe you should get your head out of your ass and figure out if you want to go through the next four years without a single friend, because I will make it happen." She stalks away, and Dean stands flabbergasted in the middle of his own room for several minutes before he shakes himself out of it enough to close the door.

He sits heavily at his desk and thinks about the last few weeks. He'd see people he recognized from the dorm chumming around in groups, obviously making friends with each other, and never stopped to wonder why they hadn't included him. Apparently, in his quest to make Cas miserable, the only person he's hurt is himself.

He's still sitting at the desk when his roommate comes home, practically sneaking into the room and timidly greeting Dean, who realizes that he's the only person Chuck is timid around. He's seen him laughing and talking with everyone else, but with Dean he interacts as little as possible and always acts afraid. Dean assumed he was just shy, but now he knows it's just because he's an asshole.

He stands to put on his jacket and despises himself even more when he sees Chuck flinch out of the corner of his eye. He mumbles that he's going out and leaves without another word.

Dean takes himself and his fake ID to the nearest bar in walking distance, and proceeds to get as drunk as possible in the time allotted before they close, which is not drunk enough to forget how to get home, but impaired enough that it takes him a long time because his legs don't cooperate very well. Which explains why he has so much difficulty using his key and has to lean on the after hours bell to get in. Naturally, this means Cas is the one who opens the only thing keeping Dean vertical at the moment, which is the door. Dean falls into him heavily, and Cas barely keeps his own balance after the catch, losing it completely when Dean realizes who's holding him up and shoves him away, hard, landing on his own ass in the process.

"Don' you touch me," he slurs, laying on his back in the hall. "I hate you. Don' wanna be near you."

Cas stands up and brushes himself off.

"At the moment, your feelings are irrelevant. You need help getting to your room, obviously, and no one else is awake at this hour. So it's me or no one." Castiel reaches down and with surprising strength grabs Dean's hand, pulling the drunk freshman to his feet and slinging Dean’s arm around his shoulders while wrapping his arm around Dean's waist. He navigates him to the stairwell.

"Why are you drunk? You realize I'm going to have to write you up for this."

Dean starts giggling, which makes it harder for Cas to drag him up the stairs, but by the time they've reached the second floor he's calmed down enough to answer.

"S'wut I do, _apparently_. My own worst enemy, they say. I think it's _your_ fault."

Cas is huffing with exertion as they start on the next flight of stairs. "I'm sorry if your utter dislike of me causes you to make bad choices, but the choices are _yours._ "

“I still fucking hate you,” Dean slurs.

Dean doesn't say anything else as Cas doggedly drags him up to the third floor, getting him into his room as quietly as he can, and helping him to sit on the bed. He helps Dean take off his jacket and then kneels down to take off his shoes, before gently goading him to lie down on his side.

In the morning, Dean wakes to find himself tucked under a blanket with a hammer working on his skull from the inside. He blinks his eyes open to see that there's a glass of water and a couple of aspirin on the desk right next to his bed, and when he glances down he sees that his trash can has been placed within reach. He thanks Chuck for those when he gets back from class, but Chuck confesses he had nothing to do with it. His suspicion is confirmed when two weeks go by and he's never written up for the incident.

After that, Dean resolves to be better.

*******

Cas is sitting in the bar near campus, leaning his head on his fist, nursing a beer and contemplating the merits of putting an ad on the community boards in the dorms versus running an ad in the campus paper. It’s a month before his graduation and Balthazar, who was supposed to rent an apartment with him for the next four years, just told him he’s moving back to England instead. So now, on top of finals stress, he has to find another roommate fast or face asking his parents for help.

"Cas?" It startles him out of his reverie, and he looks up into a pair of concerned green eyes. Over the last two years his relationship with Dean has improved immensely, to the point where they're at least on friendly terms with one another, and Cas has been grateful for that.

"You okay, man? You've been sitting here staring into your beer for at least twenty minutes."

Cas sits up straight as Dean takes the stool beside him, placing his own half empty beer on the bar. He rubs his face with his hands. "I don't think I want to talk about it."

Dean grins to himself and Cas wishes the two of them could have had a different history, where they'd bonded as children and been the best of friends and he could have been privy to more of those secret smiles. Maybe more than friends. He's had these thoughts before, and sometimes he finds himself staring, wondering how long he's been doing it before shaking himself out of it and putting those thoughts away. He's happy enough with their friendship, so he firmly puts those errant thoughts in a box and firmly closes the lid. Again.

"Tell you what: how about I distract you instead, and we take your mind off your problems?" The lid budges and Cas firmly presses it back into place before nodding in the affirmative.

It's not crowded in the bar, being a Wednesday afternoon, so they manage to spend a good two hours throwing darts and forgetting their problems, and Cas tries not to feel smug when he wins more than once.

"I cannot _believe_ you hit that again!" Dean cries, as he yanks another of Cas's darts from the center cork. "Where did you learn to play darts like this you monster? I hate you!" It's playful in its delivery and Dean is obviously joking, but something about that phrase tugs at Cas and the triumphant smile slides from his face. He looks down at his hands, resting on the high table where they've been placing their drinks and standing between turns.

"Yes, you've said so before," he says quietly, and Dean turns back to him, alarmed.

"Cas..."

Suddenly he feels awkward again the way he does around strangers, or whenever he makes an obvious social misstep, like now. He drops a couple bills on the table and grabs his jacket. "I should go. I need to make some decisions and try to find a new roommate and...this was fun. So, um, thanks." He says all this rapidly, as he's moving closer to the door, and it's obvious that Dean wants to stop him but he just needs to get out.

He's halfway back to campus, hands shoved in the pocket of his jeans, collar turned up against the chill of the evening spring air when he hears Dean calling his name behind him. He presses his lids together tightly and sighs before he stops to wait, but doesn't turn around.

"Cas, hey," he gasps, out of breath. "Just wait, please. About what you said, I..."

"No, I shouldn't have. It was a long time ago and I..."

"Cas. Stop." Dean moves in front of him and puts both hands on his shoulders, ducking his head until Cas finally looks at him. "Listen, I'm sorry about every time I ever said that to you, okay? I can't tell you I didn't mean it, because I'm sure at the time I did; but I don't remember what it was like to feel that way about you anymore, okay? You're my friend now, and I was only teasing. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I know, Dean. It's just...it's been a bad day."

"Yeah, I know. I heard Balthazar bailed on you. So when I saw you sitting there I thought you might need some cheering up." He smiles, and Cas feels the lid on the box budge again, ever so slightly. "I also wanted to ask you if you'd consider taking me on as a roommate? I got a job offer for the summer and the commute home is a bitch and..."

Castiel starts laughing in earnest, reaching up to grab Dean's wrists in his hands.

*******

It seems weird to Dean that someone like Cas -- quiet, somewhat awkward, usually getting a bemused look on his face as pop culture references fly right over his head -- has become his best friend in the last couple of years they’ve been living together.

What he's not glad for are the other, apparently unrequited feelings he’s developed for his roommate.. He gets flirty sometimes, can't help it, but Cas never reciprocates and often looks uncomfortable, so Dean backs off and chastises himself for going too far and jeopardizing their living situation. He graduates in a couple of weeks and he's sure Cas is expecting him to move out and go back home, but they haven't discussed it. It's ever present, taking up space in the room, and they're both circling it like feral creatures around prey, each afraid to set off the other by making the first move.

Dean sighs. They really need to talk, but surely it can wait just a bit longer? He's had a terrible day, and he just wants to go home and sink into the companionship and comfort that make it that way.

After shedding his shoes and his backpack, he moves into the apartment and peeks over the back of the coach where, as he suspected, Cas is dozing with a textbook splayed open on his chest. Dean smiles to himself.

It's when he's reaching into the drawer for a fork that Dean sees it.

The pie plate. In the sink. Empty. As in, devoid of pie.

Suddenly all the tension of the day rushes back in, sending him storming over to the couch and smacking the book off Cas's chest, shocking him awake, startled and flustered and hair a disheveled mess.

"Dean, wha..."

"Dude, how could you? What were you thinking with the pie?"

Cas just stares up at him, blinking repeatedly, mouth opening and closing as though he's forgotten what words are.

"You're so inconsiderate! You are the worst roommate ever!” He knows he's being unfair, but he's irrationally upset about the pie situation and he just wants Cas to feel terrible.

Cas stands up from the couch, full of fury and seething with righteous indignation. "Well. I guess that won't matter anymore after you've gone home in a couple of weeks."

"I knew it! You've just been waiting for me to move out!"

Cas looks taken aback, but Dean just barrels on, all his insecurities realized and his anger set alight.

"I know you're glad to get rid of me, and that's just fine. I hate you anyway."

Now Cas finds his voice, and Dean can't help but take a step back.

"Oh believe me, Dean, I _know._ I know you hate me. It's hard to miss with the way you're always teasing me about how I feel _and_ going out of your way to taunt me about it. So I think it's best if we just keep to ourselves until this whole situation resolves itself in a few weeks!" He grabs his book from the floor and stalks into his bedroom, slamming the door hard enough that Dean hears the glasses tinkle in the cabinets. He storms into the kitchen and yanks open the fridge because he needs a goddamn beer so he can process whatever the hell just happened.

And there, on top of the refrigerator, resting on one of those red and white checkered dish towels that Cas owns and Dean teases him about relentlessly, is a freshly baked pie, set up there to cool because they don't have a lot of counter space.

Dean looks at the pie for a long time. It smells like blueberry. The edges are a little bit browner than they should be, which just tears at Dean's heart a little bit more, because Cas ate the last of his pie and then spent his day off baking him another one.

He can’t believe he just lashed out at someone who baked him _pie,_ especially considering how he feels about him.

How he feels about him.

Wait.

What did he mean that Dean was constantly teasing _him_ about how _he_ feels?

Dean's legs are carrying him to the bedroom door before he's even finished processing the thought because he already knows that he needs to apologize before he tries to decipher that little nugget of information. He knocks lightly, but when there's no answer he cracks the door open slightly.

"Go away Dean."

The sentence is forceful, but his posture is not. He's sitting on the far side of his bed, facing away from the door, elbows resting on his knees, head hanging low.

"I can't," Dean says sheepishly, edging his way into the room. Cas sighs audibly but doesn't move, doesn't turn to look at him, just leans forward and puts his face in his hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

"No, you never _mean_ it. I know you don't _mean_ it, and yet it keeps coming out." His hands are muffling his speech but Dean hears him clearly, and he flinches a little when Cas sits up straight and leans his hands against the edge of the mattress instead. "I wonder sometimes why you tolerate me. Maybe it's just because you knew you only had two years to get through." He shakes his head, neck bowing so that he's staring at the floor again. "In any case, it's almost done now. You'll graduate and you'll never have to see me again, or deal with me making you uncomfortable..."

"Wait, Cas, wait. What do you mean by that?" Dean steps further into the room now, gingerly making his way to the foot of the bed, staring at his profile. "Why do you think you make me uncomfortable?"

"Dean, I know you know. I don't want to discuss it out loud. Can you please just go? You've made your point."

Dean's brain has been racing ever since he walked away from the fridge, going through a thousand moments like the pages of a flip book, slowly at first, then faster and faster.

_the way you're always teasing me about how I feel_

_teasing me about how I feel_

Click.

He moves in front of Cas slowly, like he's a skittish animal, and kneels on the floor. Cas has his eyes tightly closed, hands gripping the edge of the mattress so hard his knuckles are white.

"Cas..." he whispers, "did you make me a pie?"

Cas breathes loudly in through his nose and opens his eyes, but he looks up at the ceiling instead of Dean. "I'm sorry if it was inappropriate.”

"Hey." Dean reaches out and puts his right hand on Cas's knee. "Stop." Now Cas finally looks at him, eyes full of confusion. "I think we're both a little confused here, and I know you don't really want to talk about it, so I'm going to just ask some 'yes' or 'no' questions, and I think I can figure all of this out if you answer. Okay?"

Cas sighs and hangs his head again. "Yes."

"Good." He gets up and moves to sit next to Cas, hands also gripping the mattress, near but not touching.

"Did you make me blueberry pie from scratch today?" He can feel Cas roll his eyes.

"Yes."

"Do you think I got mad because I saw the pie you made and felt uncomfortable because you like me?" Cas pauses, predictably, because it's actually two questions rolled into one.

"Yes," he whispers.

"Do you think that's why I'm always flirting with you -- because I know you like me and I'm making fun of you for it?" Cas looks away.

"Yes."

"Did you ever think that maybe I do that because I like you, too?" Dean can practically hear the gears clicking in his head as he ponders this, and he whispers something so lowly it can't be heard.

"What?"

Cas turns to face him now. "I said...no."

Dean nods his head slowly, looking down at his feet. "I've been stressing out a lot lately, because I know the end of term is coming, and we haven't talked about it. On top of that, I had a terrible day today, and all I wanted to do when I got home was eat my leftover pie and ease into the couch and watch a movie. With you." Cas shrugs. "I didn't see the pie you made, not until you came in here. I just saw the empty tin in the sink and I lost my temper. I still struggle with that sometimes. Maybe I always will."

He gets up and walks a few steps away, back to Cas, rubbing his neck. "The thing is, I thought all this time that you were uncomfortable because I flirt with you. That you just wanted to be roommates and nothing more, and maybe you were looking forward to me moving out finally..."

"Dean, that's not..."

"...and the thing is, I've been wanting to tell you for weeks that I want to say here. That I've got a couple of jobs lined up and it would be great if I could just stay on here while you finish your Master's and then, well. It's just that: I want to stay. Not just in the apartment. But with _you_." He can hear the sharp intake of breath behind him, and it gives him enough hope to turn around.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you. I'm sorry I made you feel all this time that I was taunting you. I'm sorry I never made any real effort to make you understand how much you mean to me, and not just when you're spending your day making me pie." He looks to the side, smiling softly. "I'm sorry I told you I hate you because, well...I think the opposite is actually true."

Cas is just sitting there, wide-eyed and silent now, and Dean thinks maybe he's gone a little too far. He hangs his head and sighs.

So he misses the moment Cas launches himself off the bed and kisses him.


End file.
